


just a dream

by maizono



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: 707 Route Spoilers, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Post-Canon, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-10
Updated: 2016-10-10
Packaged: 2018-08-20 13:47:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8251312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maizono/pseuds/maizono
Summary: a gallant knight escaping into the sunset with his princess — surely, that must lead to a happy ending.after all, you love 707 more than anything else.set after a certain bad ending.





	

**Author's Note:**

> i like bad endings.

He's crying again.

You notice the gentle racking of his frame first, separated by a thin layer of blankets as your two bodies are; it's an almost imperceptible, faint shaking that lulls you out of sleep and into reality, and your eyes flutter open in confusion.

One, then two more seconds pass, and your awareness expands to include the sound of sobs — sobs that he's desperately trying to muffle by mashing a pillow against his face. That isn't right. You reach over without hesitation to wrap an arm around him, and ignoring how his body stiffens at your touch, a concerned question falls from your lips.

"Seven, honey... are you okay?"

That's right. _Seven_ is the name you refer to him by, not Luciel, nor anything else — it's what he'd wanted, and you have no qualms with it. The 707 in the chatroom is the one you fell in love with.

For a moment, it seems as if he wants to pull away from you, but it passes so quickly that you must be imagining things. Then he's turning to face you, clumsily, lowering the pillow from his face with a ragged whisper of your name; and at the end of it, the tickle of his hair grazes your cheek as his head comes to rest against your shoulder.

It's so dark in this room that you can't see a lick of the expression he's making right now, but the strain in his voice leaves little to the imagination.

"Just for now... please, let me stay like this... "

Seeing him like this (lost, pleading, _desperate_ ) confuses you. "Hubby," you begin, unsure of what to do but opting for the same, happy-go-lucky manner that'd landed the two of you here in the first place, but he cuts you off before you can continue.

"God." Seven's voice is harsh when he continues. "No. Not... not that." He sucks in a deep breath, one that hitches partway, and you can hear how much he's struggling to steady himself. "Just... don't say anything."

And so, you don't. You don't, and he sags back against you, still shaking.

Dimly, you begin to feel a dampness encroaching on your shoulder where his face is pressed up against it. Having been ordered to stay silent (and you continue to obey without question — it's God Seven's decree, after all!), you resort to comforting him through actions instead. The sheets crinkling beneath you as you shift, a hand soon emerges to snake around that familiar head of hair, where you tangle your fingers between curly strands to pull him closer.

 _I love you,_ you want to say, _I love you so much, Seven Zero Seven._ And maybe some of those emotions get through to him, because he gradually begins to relax again, although the trembling doesn't stop — in fact, it intensifies, because he's still crying, still taking care to be quiet even though it's only the two of you here and there will only ever be the two of you, together, forever, against the world and whatever else it may bring.

You don't know how much longer you stay like that, drifting between sleep and wakefulness. It's in the middle of that haze that you feel a hand brush back your bangs, his scent enveloping you, and a chaste kiss being planted on your forehead.

"Go back to sleep now," the voice of the man you love tells you. "This is just a dream. That's all it is — I promise."

* * *

The sound of alarm bells rouses you. Groggily, sleepily, you clamber upright while opening your eyes, discovering that the space beside you is empty, and being struck with a moment of fear because _he's gone, where is he, did Seven leave me?_

But that all evaporates when you turn and see his smiling face — in the split second before he flicks you in the forehead.

"O - Oww!" you complain, but it's good-natured and you stick out your tongue in rebuttal.

He laughs. "Time to get moving, sleepyhead."

It looks like he's been up for a while, upon closer inspection. As always, your two suitcases are packed and resting against the door, with your coat and a toothbrush lying beside them. You've been on the run like this for so long that anything else would seem unfamiliar in comparison. Even the sight of Seven grinning at you with his phone held up before him ( _ah_ , you think, _that's where the sound was coming from_ ) is part of that same, comforting routine, and you stretch out both arms expectantly.

It's only after he's picked you up, spinning you around while still laughing all the while, that you remember the nagging feeling that's been in the back of your head since you woke up.

"Seven," you begin, and the seriousness in your voice makes him stop and eye you quizzically. "Last night, I...I think I had a weird dream."

Then he's suddenly spinning you again, face melting into a heartier grin than before. "If you keep making that cute face, my heart's gonna pop out! Go get ready and God Seven'll make us both some instant coffee, okay? With _lots_ of sugar for my sweetie!" When he sets you back down, he's the picture of cheerfulness. "Tell me about your dream once we're in the car later — my baby can't wait much longer!"

You spend the rest of the morning bustling about the hotel room, laughing both at and with Seven and his crazy, crazy antics; by the time you've checked out and piled back into the car for another long drive, you're so awake that you've long since forgotten about anything related to strange dreams and sleepless nights.

Today will definitely be another happy, lovey-dovey day.


End file.
